


To Follow

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, celebrimbor is a poor little ray of sunshine, curufin is kind of a jerk, orodreth is a nice guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It had gone too far. Even Celebrimbor could see it now." Celebrimbor parts ways with his father in Nargothrond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Follow

 

It had gone too far. Even Celebrimbor could see it now. Even the people of Nargothrond, enthralled as they were by Celegorm and Curufin's words, now saw how wrong the two brothers had been.

The sons of Fëanor were not as trustworthy as they had once seemed. They acted not out of fear and wariness of war, as they had claimed earlier, but out of malice and deceit. For who among the wary would have kidnapped Lúthien, even while her beloved quested for her hand?

Orodreth, now rightful king of Nargothrond, stood triumphantly with Finrod Felagund's crown upon his head. The crowd, once so eager to support Celegorm and Curufin, had drawn back, their eyes flinty.

"My uncle let you abide here, Celegorm, and you as well, Curufin," Orodreth spoke gravely, "though you spoke ill words and gave ill counsel. Now he is dead, and I see he was wrong to trust the sons of Fëanor."

The crowd rumbled in agreement. Celebrimbor stood silently among them, watching his father closely. Curufin looked ill at ease, shifting his weight from one leg to the next, fiddling with his rings, and glancing about himself to the crowd.

Celebrimbor himself felt sick in his stomach. He, being young when Fëanor had led the Noldor out of Valinor, had not sworn the oath with his father and uncles, though he shared in its misfortune. He was of a peaceful mind, favoring his mother's disposition. Alas that she had lingered with the host of Fingolfin during the crossing, being of his people, and thus fallen in the passage of Helcaraxë. She could have tempered her husband, at least to avoiding this portion of his doom.

"You have committed many grievous acts," Orodreth continued, "not the least being the capture of fair Lúthien. What shall be done with you?"

"Slay them!" cried one of Orodreth's subjects. The cry was taken up by the rest of the crowd. "Slay them! Slay them! Traitors! Fiends! Slay them!"

Celebrimbor flinched, feeling a jolt of terror. Whatever his father and uncle had done, he did not wish for them to die. And did Finarfin's people see him as worthy of sharing their fate, for all that he was innocent of his father's deeds?

Curufin's eyes widened with fear, and he clenched his fists so tight they turned white. Still he said nothing. Celebrimbor knew his father. He was marshalling all his thoughts, preparing to talk his way out of this awful fate.

Celegorm, beside him, stood tall and firm, his eyes flashing with anger. He opened his mouth to protest, but Curufin jabbed him in the stomach with his elbow, stopping him.

"Orodreth, this is madness," Curufin said calmly, though his anxious body movements betrayed his fear. "Would you slay your own kin? We are both of the house of Finwë."

The cry grew louder, and angrier. "Slay them! Slay them!"

"No," Orodreth said at last, raising a hand for silence. "No," he repeated. "I will not suffer any of the Eldar to willingly slay another in my realm, for that would only hasten the doom of Mandos which has been cursed upon us."

Curufin relaxed visibly, confidence glimmering in his eyes once more. Celebrimbor's gut twisted uncomfortably. He knew his father thought he could talk his way out of this, given time. He knew that he was right, too.

However, it seemed Orodreth was not done. "But hear this, Curufin and Celegorm and my people also," the king declared in a ringing voice. "Traitors and kinslayers are welcome no longer in the realm of Nargothrond. I will not spare you neither bread nor rest. You must be gone from these halls ere the sun rises. Any of your people may leave with you, if they wish, but neither they nor you nor any of the sons of Fëanor shall be welcome in Nargothrond hereafter."

"Let it be so!" snarled Celegorm, menace alight in his eyes. Beside him, Curufin's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. His eyes sought out his son, but Celebrimbor would not meet his gaze.

The crowd parted to let the brothers pass, each of the people of Orodreth glaring daggers at the traitors. Celebrimbor alone did not stand aside. He looked down at his feet as Celegorm and Curufin approached.

He knew Curufin would expect him to follow, though none other would. In his heart, Celebrimbor still loved his father. Though they had differing temperaments and sympathies, they were alike in blood and in skill.

Celegorm passed him without comment. Curufin passed, saying softly as he did, "Come, Celebrimbor, my son. We are not welcome here any longer."

Celebrimbor did not turn and follow. Curufin stopped, the repeated, louder this time, "Telperinquar, come!" He used his Quenya name, showing further contempt for Orodreth's rule, as the house of Finarfin had been first to Sindarize their names out of respect for Thingol their kin.

Celebrimbor raised his head high and turned to face his father, looking him in the eye. "No, father, I will not follow you this time."

A murmur of shock raced through the crowd. Celegorm stopped walking away, and Curufin blanched white in shock and anger, beginning to tremble.

"You dare defy your father?" he growled. "You are of my blood and my descent. You  _will_  follow me, Telperinquar."

"I followed you from Valinor," Celebrimbor said firmly. "I followed you to the shores of Losgar and watched you burn the ships that could have saved my mother from perishing on Helcaraxë. I followed you to battle, to a new home, and then away when Himlad fell. I followed you to Nargothrond, but I did not follow you in the kidnap of fair Lúthien, nor will I follow you into exile. I have learned much from you and I love you still, but I repudiate your deeds and those of your father and brothers. A great evil follows you, and I wish to have no part in it. Nargothrond is my home, and Orodreth is my king. Go, Curufin, and chase the silmarils to your doom. I will not follow. Not this time."

Curufin drew back at his son's words, shock and fury plain upon his face. Having been Fëanor's favorite son and a prince of the Noldor, he was used to getting his own way. Well, Celebrimbor too had been beloved of Fëanor, his only grandson, and he also was a Noldorin prince. He had developed a will of his own. He stood trembling and tall, afraid but defiant.

Curufin snarled, then turned away, his fists clenched in anger. "Be free, then, Celebrimbor! Free from me, and from my doom! If you were my son, you are no more. I know you not!"

He turned and stormed away. Celegorm followed him with moon-wide eyes.

Celebrimbor felt no better after repudiating the deeds of his father. If anything, he felt worse. He had kept his honor, and perhaps his home if Orodreth did not cast him out as well, for sharing the blood of Fëanor, but he had lost his father.

As Celebrimbor defied his father, Orodreth had stepped down from his pedestal and moved toward him. Now the golden-haired king laid a hand on his shoulder.

Celebrimbor flinched slightly, not daring to turn and face Orodreth. The king instead walked around and embraced him. The gesture was so uncommon among the Eldar, an act of complete trust and love, that for a moment he stood stiff and confused. Then he embraced his kin in turn, tears budding in his eyes.

"You are welcome in my house, Celebrimbor," Orodreth murmured. "And since you have lost your father, I will be father to you."

"I will be a better son to you than I ever was to Curufin," Celebrimbor whispered back. Though they were both great-grandsons of Finwë, Orodreth through Finarfin and Celebrimbor through Fëanor, the king was older. Gil-galad, Orodreth's son, had been a good friend to him, and this would only strengthen the bond of brotherhood between them.

They broke apart, and Orodreth turned to his people. "You have heard what Celebrimbor said. He has repudiated his father's evil deeds, and his father casts him out. Now, I take him in. He is welcome in Nargothrond until the day our kingdom falls, as my son in all but full blood."

The crowd was silent for a moment. Celebrimbor swallowed, fear still within him. He doubted all of them had been as moved as Orodreth by his words. Doubtless some still mistrusted him, seeing only his father's son and the wrath of Fëanor within him. But Celebrimbor had inherited Fëanor's skill, not his mood, and his grandmother Nerdanel's wisdom, in part. He was not the same as Curufin.

Then Gil-galad stepped forward and declared, "Welcome, brother!"

The crowd burst into sudden applause, and Celebrimbor smiled wide in relief. He had a new father to follow now. Respect from the people would come in time, but until then, he at least had a home.


End file.
